


Against The Waves

by noodlerdoodler



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Diego Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Diego Hargreeves has ADHD, Diego Hargreeves-centric, Drowning, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Hargreeves Children (Umbrella Academy) Need a Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Late Night Conversations, Multi, Nightmares, No Incest, Not Beta Read, Other, Pre-Canon, Protective Klaus Hargreeves, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Sibling Bonding, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26519572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlerdoodler/pseuds/noodlerdoodler
Summary: “Charming. Isn’t my company entertaining enough for you?” Dramatically, Klaus threw up a hand against his forehead and collapsed onto his bed as if he were wounded.“Don’t be an ass,” His brother rolled his eyes but there was a fond expression on his face, “You know that some of us aren’t actually nocturnal?”Klaus stuck his tongue out, “What are you doing up then?”Instantly, his brother’s defences snapped back up and he scowled, “I t-t-t-tol-tol-told y-y-you th-“Whatever his excuses were, Klaus couldn’t be bothered to hear them. As lowly as the others thought of him, he was actually pretty intuitive and it was obvious the real reason Diego was out of bed was because something was bothering him. He wasn’t one to just wander around after hours for no reason- that was more Klaus’s gig. Whatever it was had really gotten under his skin. Unfortunately, his brother was too emotionally constipated to say what was on his mind.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 133
Collections: Kid Fics





	Against The Waves

**Author's Note:**

> tw that diego's nightmare is about drowning!! so if that triggers you maybe don't read

It was always Klaus who had nightmares. When the boy finally managed to fall asleep, which was no small feat, he would always end up tossing and turning in distress. He had a disturbing tendency to mumble in his sleep or even cry out loudly, jerking awake from nightmares so violently that he woke up his siblings. Luther slept down the hall and had repeatedly complained that Klaus was keeping him awake at night: the rest had felt too bad to say anything about it.

So, while it wasn’t uncommon for Klaus to wake up in tears, his brother was a different matter altogether.

Diego didn’t get _scared_. At least, that was what he liked to brag to his siblings whenever they snuck a horror movie into the VHS player or ran headfirst into danger on missions. He certainly didn’t have nightmares- as much as he sympathised with Klaus, who sometimes trembled like a leaf over breakfast when he’d slept badly, Diego privately thought nightmares were rather babyish. Dreams weren’t _real_. Therefore, they weren’t scary.

“D-don’t worry,” Diego had assured his bewildered brother one night, when they’d crossed paths in the hall, “It’s all in your h-head. It’s no-not r-real.”

That was what he thought until one night, the fears that his father’s training had installed in him plagued his sleep. It didn’t feel like a dream at all. It felt completely real and the sensation of choking on bathwater so vivid that he was surprised to wake up in his own bed. He almost expected to wake up shivering on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, where his dream had taken place. Instead, he stirred in his bed, tangled in his bedsheets and slick with sweat.

The feeling of drowning still fresh in his mind, Diego frantically wriggled free of his sheets, kicking them away, and nearly ended up on the floor. He huddled on his bed, pressing his back against the wall in hopes that the sensation would ground him, and hugged his knees to his chest. Without thinking about it, he sucked air through his teeth just to make sure he could.

It was okay. Dad wasn’t here. Nobody was forcing his head underwater. He was… Safe.

Logic didn’t seem to prevent him from shaking, as if he was being rocked by invisible waves. Shudder. Reasoning that he wasn’t even afraid of water, not really, and that it was seemingly impossible for him to drown at all didn’t do anything to shake the fear building in his chest. He wiped his sweaty forehead on his academy pyjamas and rested his head there, on his knees.

Diego closed his eyes, drawing a shaky breath. Something about the dark was comforting.

Once his heart had stopped pounding in his chest and he’d managed to stop shuddering, Diego opened his eyes again and detached the monitor from above his ear. He stuck it to the bedpost and scooted to the edge of the bed, getting to his feet. He crossed the floor to his bedroom door, cursing each floorboard that groaned gently under his weight, and twisted the doorknob silently. Creaking, the door opened and Diego scanned the corridor for any signs of life.

_”You can always come to me, silly. No matter how small the problem is,”_ his mom had told him before, cupping his chin in her hands.

That had been when he’d sheepishly admitted to her that Luther had been teasing him about his test scores. Calling him stupid because he couldn’t concentrate properly in lessons. If Grace hadn’t spotted the tell-tale tear marks tracked down his face, Diego probably never would’ve confessed about it upsetting him. Weakness was considered a flaw in the Umbrella Academy.

Reginald Hargreeves had made it clear that no son of his would be “pathetic” and Diego was determined to prove that he was just as good as the rest of them. Every time he felt a twinge of upset in his chest, he clenched his fists and tried not to show it. But… his mom would understand if he wandered over and curled up on her lap while she recharged.

He didn’t have to mention the nightmare.

Closing the door quietly behind him, Diego slipped down the corridor as quietly as a cat. Thank god for the years of rigorous training and his knowledge of where Dad’s security cameras were or his father would’ve caught onto him immediately. No doubt the monitor had already alerted him that he was out of bed but if he was quick, Reginald wouldn’t know where he had gone.

Unfortunately, while he knew how to avoid his father well enough, Diego didn’t account for any of his siblings being awake. Softly, a door creaked open behind him and someone whispered, “Di?”

Diego tensed automatically when he heard the door open, a big red PANIC sign flashing through his mind at the idea of his siblings catching him. How was he going to explain that he needed Grace in the middle of the night? Because he’d had a bad dream of all things? Everybody would laugh at him over breakfast. He relaxed his shoulders a little when he heard the familiar nickname, (which he _hated_ but couldn’t shake off), as only one of his brothers called him that.

Turning around quietly, he saw Klaus standing in his doorway. He looked bright-eyed and awake.

No words came to him. No excuse. Diego just stood there in his rumpled pyjamas, his eyes darting around fearfully for an escape route, and hugged his arms to his chest.

“What’s wrong, Di?” Klaus’s eyebrows pulled together in concern.

* * *

For as long as he could remember, Klaus had slept badly. It was the ghosts, obviously, that kept him awake. Their incessant screaming combined with the tendency for their terrifying faces to leer at him was a winning insomnia combo. What else could it possibly be? Though he did once suggest to his father that he might sleep better if his bed had silk sheets…

However, he was sure that the rest of siblings would’ve fallen asleep hours ago. That was why he’d flipped his bedside light on and cracked open a book that Ben had leant him, reading the sleepless night away. It helped that Klaus had smuggled some candy into his room and could feel the delightful acidic burn of sugar and chemicals on his tongue. He’d swiped it from a store.

Footsteps in the hallway alerted him to the fact that somebody else was awake.

Instinctively, Klaus thought that it was his father and panic leapt into his throat. No doubt his father had noticed he was awake and was on his way to grab him by the ear, so that he could drag Klaus outside and toss him into the mausoleum. A night there would cure him of his fears, according to Reginald Hargreeves, who knew fuck all about how his power worked.

He was considering burrowing under his blanket and pretending to sleep when he realised that it _couldn’t_ be his father. These were the quiet and careful footsteps of somebody sneaking around, not his father’s confident stride. Maybe Luther and Allison sneaking out to the greenhouse again? Gross. Klaus wrinkled his nose.

Creeping to the door, he thought he might as well invite himself along. He’d love to ruin their evening together. But, as he pulled his door open, the figure that he saw slipping down the hallway wiped the smirk off his face completely.

It wasn’t Allison or Luther or cocky little Five on a midnight jaunt, it was-

“Di?” He whispered and his brother whipped around to face him, “What’s wrong, Di?”

He knew it was cheesy to make a ghost joke, being The Séance and all, but Diego honestly looked haunted. Maybe it was just due to the dim light but there was a shadowy look on his face, as if he was… Scared? While Diego tried to put on a tough persona, desperate to “be a man” whatever that entailed, Klaus knew that his brother was scared right now. It was in his eyes. And the fact that his hands seemed to be shaking as Diego tucked them under his armpits.

“N-nothing,” He puffed out his chest defensively, “Just g-going to the b-b-ba-ba- washroom.”

His stammer always got worse when he was distressed. Sometimes, on his personal training days or when they went on missions, Diego struggled to get any full sentences out.

Klaus quirked an eyebrow, “You’re going the wrong way then. Unless you’re planning to piss against Luther’s door? In which case, I want in.”

Looking baffled by this knowledge, he started trying to stammer out a new excuse about getting a glass of water but even he seemed to realise that it was futile. Knowing that their father would likely watch the security footage in the morning, Klaus quietly ushered a protesting brother into his bedroom. He’d broken the camera in his room a few days ago and it hadn’t been fixed yet.

Diego stood there by the door, shoulders hunched and a scowl on his face. Now that they were in better light, it was obvious that his eyes were rimmed red. Had he been… Crying?

“Somebody needs a hug from their favourite sibling!” Klaus announced, hands on his hips, and threw himself at his brother so that he didn’t have the chance to say no.

Out of his six siblings, Klaus thought that Diego was the one that he was closest with and he had been ever since they were little. They’d always played together when they were toddlers. Later, they had invented a secret handshake just for the two of them, which they refused to teach anyone else. Often, they would sneak out together, or just climb up onto the forbidden roof, when they needed an escape from their father. And it wasn’t just during downtime that they hung out.

Since Diego struggled with his lessons, Klaus would coach him through their homework and pat him fondly on the back when he got too frustrated. It didn’t take much to frustrate Diego, since he was very pissy anyway. In turn, Diego would take the fall for Klaus when he did anything immensely stupid and his father threatened to lock him in the mausoleum and toss away the key.

“Get off, shitheel,” Diego mumbled in protest when he was trapped in a hug.

Poor Diego stood stiffly, arms strapped firmly to his side and jaw set, as Klaus wrapped his lanky arms around his shoulders. He squeezed his brother tightly and felt him relax just a little into the hug, some of the tension leaving his posture. After a few seconds, Diego relented and slid his arms around Klaus’s middle, still warm from sleep. It sounded almost like he let out a sniffle.

For a few moments more, they hugged and then Diego stifled a yawn with his hand. That was enough reason for Klaus to release him from his grip and mime being offended as he ambled across the room. He’d recently perfected popping his mouth open in a shocked ‘o’ expression.

“Charming. Isn’t my company entertaining enough for you?” Dramatically, Klaus threw up a hand against his forehead and collapsed onto his bed as if he were wounded.

“Don’t be an ass,” His brother rolled his eyes but there was a fond expression on his face, “You know that some of us aren’t actually nocturnal?”

Klaus stuck his tongue out, “What are you doing up then?”

Instantly, his brother’s defences snapped back up and he scowled, “I t-t-t-tol-tol-told y-y-you th-“

Whatever his excuses were, Klaus couldn’t be bothered to hear them. As lowly as the others thought of him, he was actually pretty intuitive and it was obvious the real reason Diego was out of bed was because something was bothering him. He wasn’t one to just wander around after hours for no reason- that was more Klaus’s gig. Whatever it was had really gotten under his skin. Unfortunately, his brother was too emotionally constipated to say what was on his mind.

Instead, Klaus crowed something about a slumber party and dove back under his blankets. Lying down on his back, he pulled the covers up to his chin and mimicked snoozing. Even with his eyes shut, he knew his brother would be rolling his eyes again. A few seconds passed, then Klaus opened one eye and gestured for his brother to join him. When Diego shook his head, he threw off the covers with a flourish and patted the space beside him enthusiastically.

“You t-tell anyone about th-this and I impale y-you on a kn-kni-knife,” His brother threatened as he stalked and clambered onto the bed, “G-got it?”

Both of them knew he wasn’t going to snitch. He never had before.

“Pinky promise,” Klaus chirped.

* * *

It may have been warm and cosy in his brother’s bed but there wasn’t really enough room for the both of them. Klaus’s sharp knee bumped against him as he snuggled down under the blanket and his icy feet seemed impossible to escape. When he was younger, Diego had teased his brother for always being as cold as a corpse but had learned to bite his tongue since he found out there was more truth to that statement than it seemed. As stupid as it seemed, his dweeby brother, (“ _older_ brother by five minutes”, Klaus liked to remind him), who traipsed around in heels and shrieked when he saw a spider, connected the dead to the living.

“Are you gonna tell me about it?” Klaus prodded him in the chest with his index finger.

Thankfully, they weren’t quite nose-to-nose lying on their sides but were close enough that Diego could see his brother’s kind expression reached his eyes. As much as he liked to tease, Klaus was an empathetic person and had a tendency to comfort people. Especially Allison.

Diego didn’t bother trying to lie to him this time, “I had a n-n-n-nigh-nigh-n-nigh- bad d-dream.”

“Oh, really? It was about time somebody else took on my burden.”

He was only kidding, no harm done, but Diego flicked him on the forehead anyway.

“Ow!” Klaus whined, pouting, “I bare my soul to you and this is how you treat me-”

It was hard to resist the urge to do it again but Klaus was being nice, so he dropped it this time. He’s rewarded by Klaus’ freezing toes brushing against his ankle and sending shivers up his spine, as if a ghost has just passed through him. Of course, he denied it but it was obvious that Klaus did it on purpose. He knew how much the cold irked Diego.

It reminded him of his training sessions, when his father plunged him into ice cold water.

Just thinking about it was almost enough to start him trembling again… So, he told Klaus about his nightmare before his brother could draw it out of him. He doesn’t tell him everything, of course. Guarded as he is, Diego was too embarrassed to admit just how much their father scared him and how large he seemed to loom in his nightmare.

But he told Klaus about the rest of the dream. How he had been training but instead of sliding into his unusual water tank, which was unpleasant enough, Diego had been marched to their family bathroom. Already, the bathtub was filled to the brim with water, waiting for him, and a feeling of dread curled in his stomach at the sight of it. Reginald had him by the neck of his pyjamas, so that he couldn’t pull away, and had forced his head under the water without hesitation.

Frantically, Diego had found his power didn’t work anymore and started choking as bathwater filled his lungs. He thrashed under the water but his father didn’t relent, pushing him down harder.

What he didn’t tell Klaus was how his father had yanked him up by his ear and hissed:

“Number Two, you’ve failed me yet again. At this point, it doesn’t surprise me. Even Number Seven is more beneficial to the team than you.”  
Then, he’d forced his head back under while Diego cried and protested.

“Wow, Dad’s a shithead even in your dreams,” By the time he finished, Klaus’s eyelids were starting to droop a little but he was still listening raptly to the dream, “He’s definitely going to win Father of the Year at this rate. In fact, I think he’s going to clean up come award season.”

As usual, Diego had little idea what his brother was talking about but knew that he was trying to be reassuring. He nodded, watching Klaus pull the blanket up over his shoulder and snuggle down under it. Vaguely, Diego remembered that same sleepy expression from when the even numbers had been put down for naps together as infants. Himself, Klaus, and Ben used to curl up under a blanket after lunch to get some rest. They always ended up tangled together.

Even on the verge of passing out, (had those dark circles always been under his eyes?), Klaus started muttering reassurances about his stupid nightmare. Reminding him that his powers hadn’t failed yet and they wouldn’t start now. Besides, Dad was too much of a _creative old bastard, he might be twisted but he sure is a creative bastard_ to resort to something as basic as dunking him in the bathtub. The calm tone of his rambling voice was more reassuring than his actual words, like listening to waves lapping against the shore.

“If you have another nightmare,” Klaus’ hand found his under the blankets and his fingers wormed his way through Diego’s, “Just squeeze my hand and I’ll know right away. Like a lifeguard. I won’t let you drown in the damn bathtub,” He snorted, “For one thing, it would make for a shit eulogy.”

“Your hand is s-so cold,” Diego complained drowsily, “D-do you k-keep it in an ice b-box or s-something?”

“Deliberately, just to piss you off,” There was a shit-eating grin on his brother’s face as he let his eyes fall closed, “You can let go if you want. Just shake me awake if you need me, okay?”

There was a long stretch of silence, where Diego presumed his brother had finally fallen asleep. If the way he had been drooling on his desk in lessons recently was anything to go by, Klaus definitely needed some rest. But then, his grin widened suddenly and he piped up in the dark.

“By the way, I suffer from a serious medical condition called sleep kicking. So, if I kick you in my sleep, it’s not my fault,” Klaus mumbled wickedly, “It’s a real condition that affects millions of children around the globe. Think of the children, Di.”

“If you k-kick me in your s-sleep, it will be the last thing you d-do, asshole.”

Needless to say, Diego didn’t let go of his hand.


End file.
